


No Reply At All

by Kittenmommy



Series: Duke's Travels: The Musical Box and Other Stories [3]
Category: British Singers RPF, Doctor Who (2005), Genesis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Crack, Flashback/Hallucination, Gen, Humor, Looking into the heart of a TARDIS is an Even Worse Idea, Mild Language, Opening the heart of a TARDIS is a Really Bad Idea, Phil Collins is nosy, RPF, Rock Stars, Someone stop me, Time Lords in funny hats, Time War, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenmommy/pseuds/Kittenmommy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s Genesis,” Oliver explained, sounding bored.  “It’s been on all day.”</p><p>“Really?” the Doctor asked without taking his attention away from the screen.  “Why?”</p><p>“One of them’s vanished,” another student answered from across the room.  “It’s been all over the news.”</p><p>“What, someone’s kidnapped Phil Collins?” Martha asked, astounded.</p><p>“Ha, we should be so lucky,” Oliver said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of this ~~insanity~~ stuff belongs to me. [_Doctor Who_](http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/index.shtml) and [_Torchwood_](http://www.bbc.co.uk/torchwood/index_nonflash.shtml) belong to [the BBC](http://www.bbc.co.uk/).
> 
> The members of [Genesis](http://www.genesis-music.com/) are real people and (obviously) belong to themselves, and the song "[No Reply At All](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DisZ6qmNdbo)" belongs to them too - oh God, please don’t sue me.
> 
> And I'm not making any money from this.

“I think that’s it,” Martha Jones said, stuffing the last thick textbook into her backpack. The Doctor was leaning against the lockers across from hers, reading the paper. “Oh, and this,” she continued, grabbing her black medical bag from the bottom of the locker. “Wouldn’t do to go off without my bag, would it?”

“Never know when it might come in handy,” the Doctor agreed, still absorbed in his newspaper. “Look at this, they’ve renewed [_Robin Hood_](http://www.bbc.co.uk/drama/robinhood/) for another series.”

“Brilliant,” she said a bit sarcastically. She slammed the locker door. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely!” he agreed, whipping the paper away from his face and giving her a huge smile. “Where shall we go?”

“After all that?” she asked, shouldering the backpack. “Somewhere relaxing.”

“Relaxing it is, then,” he agreed, folding the paper and laying it down on a bench. They walked into the busy hospital corridor together. “Have you ever been to the Eye of Orion?”

“No, not lately,” she giggled. “Come on, then.” They passed a door with a sign next to it identifying it as the medical student lounge. “Hang on a minute, I want to say goodbye.”

“All right,” he agreed. 

She pushed the door open and stuck her head inside.

“Martha!” the Doctor heard a surprised male voice exclaim. “Where on Earth have you been?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Oliver.” She held the door open and motioned for the Doctor to join her inside. 

Young people sat in chairs or at tables, talking and studying. A young woman stood near the window, her cell phone pressed to one ear and her finger stuck in the other. A male student was sprawled on one sofa, sleeping. The television was on, but the volume was turned nearly all the way down; only one person appeared to be paying any attention to it, a blond young man who the Doctor recalled from their adventure on the Moon. 

“You remember Mister Smith, yeah?” Martha asked him.

Oliver Morgenstern frowned up at the Doctor, thinking. “Wait… stomach cramps, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right!” the Doctor beamed. “All better now, though. Amazing what a bit of chamomile tea will do.”

“Hmm. Have you been studying, Martha?” Oliver asked.

“Not really… but I plan to remedy that!” She shifted her body slightly to display her backpack full of books as though to emphasize her intent.

“Exams are coming up,” he reminded her. “It’s not as though you have all the time in the world, you know!”

Inexplicably, Martha laughed at this.

“What’s this?” the Doctor asked, drawing Martha’s attention to the television, where a short young man with thinning hair was singing. The picture had the faded, grainy look of old video.

“Looks like a concert,” she told him. Oliver reached for the remote and raised the volume.

“Well, I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me, is there something that I should know?” the young man sang as the Doctor watched, transfixed,

“It’s Genesis,” Oliver explained, sounding bored. “It’s been on all day.”

“Really?” the Doctor asked without taking his attention away from the screen. “Why?”

“One of them’s vanished,” another student answered from across the room. “It’s been all over the news.”

“What, someone’s kidnapped Phil Collins?” Martha asked, astounded.

“Ha, we should be so lucky,” Oliver said. “No, one of the other ones,” he continued, pointing at the television. “Keyboard player. And not kidnapped. Just _gone_.”

“Where?” Martha wondered.

The Doctor continued to stare at the television, an odd expression on his face.

“Be with me, why aren’t you ever here with me? Oh, I’ve been tryin’ to get over there, but it’s out of my reach!” the singer lamented.

“No clue,” Oliver answered.

“And there’s no reply at all, shit, there’s no reply at all,” Phil sang on the television.

“I should have told them,” the Doctor said suddenly.

“Told who what?” Martha asked, confused.

“I should have told them the whole story, made them listen… made them _believe_.”

“Peter Gabriel’s offered a reward,” the other student said, completely ignoring the Doctor’s odd outburst. “Fifty thousand pounds for ‘any information leading to’, _et cetera_ , _et cetera_.”

“Stupid,” Martha said, rolling her eyes. “Doesn’t he watch [_Law and Order_](http://www.nbc.com/Law_&_Order/)? You _never_ offer a reward – it just brings all the nuts crawling out of the woodwork, and then the police have to waste their time following up on every single one of their idiotic stories.”

“Come on, Martha,” the Doctor said, turning away from the television and moving swiftly toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” she asked, and then realized that he wasn’t stopping to answer. “Looks like we’re leaving!” Martha told her fellow students apologetically. “Goodbye, everyone!” This last was said over her shoulder as she hurried to catch up with the Doctor.

“Where are we _going_?” she asked again when they reached the TARDIS.

He didn’t answer. He just unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

* * *

Phil Collins stood in the doorway of [the old farmhouse-turned-recording studio](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Farm_\(recording_studio\)) and watched Mike Rutherford drive away. 

Mike had been right; there was nothing more they could do here today. They might as well go down to the police station with the rest of their support staff to help man the phones. 

Ever since Pete had offered that reward, they were ringing off the hook. Unfortunately, none of the callers seemed to have any useful information, but every single “lead” still had to be followed up. 

Phil was starting to think that the reward hadn’t been such a great idea after all. He turned and went inside to get his jacket.

He heard an odd sound coming from the empty office area and poked his head into the room, listening. 

The odd sound was reminiscent of laser sound effects from a movie or a video game, and it was growing louder. It was soon joined by another sound, this one like a shrieking pterodactyl. 

From out of nowhere, a wind blew stacks of papers off of desks, and the shape of a white glowing cube began forming in the empty air, hovering about eight feet above the floor.

“What the hell?” Phil wondered out loud.

The glowing cube achieved solidity and the shrieking pterodactyl noises immediately ceased, much to Phil’s relief. 

The cube continued to hover in the air for a few seconds, and then with the sound of creaking machinery, it suddenly resolved itself into the form of [an orange equipment case labeled _Tony Banks, Keyboards_](http://www.genesis-movement.co.uk/g99/images/cases2.jpg). It then plummeted to the floor with a resounding _crash_ that should have reduced the wooden box to a pile of orange splinters.

Phil was staring at it in speechless astonishment when the lid suddenly swung open, and a glowing yellow light shone from within. The light seemed to be alive. Warm tendrils drifted out and diffused throughout the room.

As though drawn by a magnet, Phil moved forward, bathed in the warm golden light. Ethereal tendrils of light floated around him, enveloping him.

When he reached the equipment trunk, he bent over to peer inside.

“Bloody – ”

Phil fell forward into the equipment trunk and the lid snapped shut, cutting off the light. Had there been an observer, it would have appeared to him as though the trunk had swallowed the singer whole...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few moments of silence, Martha spoke. “So, what is it?”
> 
> He looked up at her, an astonished expression on his face. “There’s another TARDIS in the Vortex!”

“Where are we going?” Martha asked once she and the Doctor were inside the TARDIS.

“Surrey. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.” He began setting coordinates.

Her eyebrows went up. “Seriously?”

He looked up briefly, meeting her gaze over the control console. “Seriously.”

“So, what’s in Surrey?” she asked, watching him as he flipped levers and turned knobs.

“Mmmm…” was the vague reply.

Bored, she hit a button that she knew would bring up an outside signal on the scanner. Music filled the console room.

“Concert’s still on,” she observed.

“Maybe deep down inside, I’m tryin’ for no one else but me,” Phil sang. “I’m too stubborn to say, the buck stops here, and it’s not the one you’re lookin’ for!”

The Doctor stopped what he was doing and frowned down at a small monitor. “Wait a minute, that looks like… no, can’t be.”

“Doctor, what’s – ” Martha began.

“Not now, Martha,” he replied absently. He was bent over the control console, watching the monitor intently.

“But maybe deep down inside, I’m lying to no one else but me!” Phil continued. “Oh, and my back is up, I’m on my guard, with all the exits sealed!”

“Turn that off!” the Doctor snapped. "I’m trying to concentrate!”

He eyes widened at his tone; he’d never snapped at her before. Obligingly, she turned the sound all the way down, leaving the picture on the scanner.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke. “So, what is it?”

He looked up at her, an astonished expression on his face. “There’s another TARDIS in the Vortex!”

“ _You are not alone_ ,” she quoted. “Remember?”

“Yes,” he agreed, bending over the controls again. “Yes, I do.”

“Good grief,” she said, and the Doctor looked up, following her gaze to the scanner, where the concert still played. It had come to an end, and all of the performers had come out from behind their instruments to link arms and bow to the audience.

“What is it?” he asked, not sure what she was seeing.

“Look at his pants!” she exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “I swear, he’s got a pair of socks stuffed down in there! It’s straight out of _Spinal Tap_ , for God’s sake!”

“Oh, Martha,” the Doctor sighed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!” He went back to fiddling with the controls.

“So what are you going to do about it?” she asked. “The other TARDIS, I mean.”

“I believe the expression is – ” He flipped a lever and looked up at her, grinning. “ – follow that TARDIS!”

As if on cue, the Time Rotor began moving, and the roar of dematerialization filled the console room.

* * *

The warm golden light filled the room. 

Phil had a vague impression of walls inset with backlit roundels and some kind of central column with a control console equipped with buttons and knobs and levers and small monitors and God only knew what else.

None of that was important, nor did he care where he was now or how he’d gotten here. 

The only thing that mattered was the beautiful warm light that was coming from an open panel in the control console. 

He approached it as though entranced, staring steadily at the light.

When he reached the console, he rested his hands on either side of the open panel and bent forward, the better to see into the compelling golden light…

He heard voices inside his head; a man with a northern accent and an Englishwoman, probably from London:

_”What've you done?”_

_“I looked into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS looked into me.”_

_“You looked into the Time Vortex! Rose, no one’s meant to see that!”_

From far away, Phil could hear a familiar voice. It was calling his name, telling him to come away from there, no, for God’s sake, Phil, don’t look at that! Close your eyes! 

But it wasn’t important. Nothing was important. Nothing but the beautiful golden light.

_”Rose! You’ve got to stop this! You’ve got to stop this_ now _! You've got the entire Vortex runnin' through your head! You're gonna_ burn _!”_

_”I can see the whole of Time and Space…”_

_"The power's gonna kill you and it's_ my fault _!"_

_"I can see everything... all that is... all that was... all that ever could be."_

“Phil!” that familiar faraway voice called again. “Please, listen to me!!”

_“Listen to me,” Phil sang. “How come you never listen to me?”_

_They were on stage, in an empty cavernous hall. The house lights were darkened, and even the stage lighting seemed dim._

_They were performing._

_Mike and Daryl were on his right, and Chester was behind him on drums._

_“Oh, and it seems there’s no way out, ‘cause I’ve been trying but we cannot connect!”_

_Phil glanced to his left, where Tony sat behind his keyboards._

_For some reason, he was wearing an outlandish costume that would have made even Pete’s infamous get-ups look normal in comparison: long robes, a form-fitting helmet, and a winged headdress all done in heliotrope edged in silver._

_It was strange, but the singer wasn’t really bothered by it. Everyone knows that dreams don’t make sense._

_A name suddenly came to him: The Panopticon. They were performing in a place called The Panopticon._

_But where was everyone? Where was their audience?_

_“And there’s no reply at all,” he sang to the empty hall. “You know, there’s no reply at all.”_

_All the people were gone. And they weren’t coming back. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not_ ever _._

_“There’s no reply at all.”_

_It was so sad, so incredibly sad._

_“No reply at all.”_

Someone slammed into him, dragging him sideways, puling him away from that beautiful hypnotizing silken light. 

Phil hit the ground hard. The warn golden light was still inside his head. 

And then everything was blackness.

CONTINUED...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Martha… did you bring Phil in here?” the Doctor asked in a mock exasperated tone.
> 
> “Yeah, you caught me,” she agreed, laughing.
> 
> “Well, you can’t keep him,” he told her seriously. “You’re too young to have a pet drummer.”
> 
> “Oh, but Doctor, I promise I’ll take care of him,” she said, her eyes wide and innocent. “I’ll feed him and water him and walk him and get him all his shots...”

Two male voices, raised in anger. One was very familiar, the other less so.

“This is all your fault! He could have been killed!”

“ _My_ fault? How is this _my_ fault? Who was it that carelessly left the heart of his TARDIS open so that any passing human could stop by and take a look?”

“You know, if it hadn’t been for you and your appalling stupidity, I’d have never opened it in the first place!”

“You’re just lucky that he didn’t end up with the entire Vortex in his head – you wouldn’t have liked dealing with _that_ , believe me! Didn’t you pay attention in school? Opening the heart is dangerous. You must’ve had other options!”

“I didn’t! As it was, I barely escaped the event horizon of Gallifrey’s destruction! But you – _you_ surely had other choices. You didn’t have to erase our home from existence!”

“Oh, it’s easy for you to talk, isn’t it? You weren’t there, you don’t know what it was like. While you were busy playing rock star here on Earth, I was fighting on the front lines of the Time War! I did what I had to do to uphold my sworn duties as a Time Lord, to protect the whole of Time and Space!”

“You should have found another way!”

“ _There_ was _no other way!_ ”

“Will you two keep it down?” a new voice – this one female and quite close by – called irritably. “I’m trying to listen to his heart! Go shout at each other somewhere else, all right?”

The angry voices retreated and continued their argument at a much lower volume, too low to make out their words.

Phil felt something pressed against his chest. 

He opened his eyes to see a beautiful young black woman kneeling at his side. She had the earpieces of a stethoscope in her ears and had the faraway look of someone who was listening intently. 

She suddenly registered that he was watching her, and smiled warmly.

“Mister Collins, you’re awake!” she said happily. She took off the stethoscope and put it back in her black bag.

“Where am I?” he asked. “And what the hell happened?”

“You’re lying on a sofa in your recording studio. And I’m not sure what happened. You were like this when we got here.” She took his wrist in her hand, finding his pulse with practiced ease.

“Who're you? Are you a doctor?”

“Will be, after I take my exams,” she said with a smile. “I’m Martha Jones. Now hush, I’m trying to count.” 

She was silent for a moment, watching the second hand on her watch intently. Finally, she released his wrist. 

“All normal,” she assured him.

“So I’m going to live?” 

“Yeah, afraid so," she joked.

Phil spied a familiar blue shape behind her, standing off to one side of the room. He had a suspicion that it might be a police box, and he squinted, trying to see it more clearly. “Wish I had my glasses.”

“Your glasses,” she said ruefully. She raised her hand, showing him the bent wire frames and the cracked lenses. “Sorry.”

“Oh well, could be worse,” he sighed. He frowned suddenly. “My hands hurt,” he said, only now realizing it was true.

Martha nodded. 

“Yeah, you’ve got some burns on your palms. Not bad ones, though. I’ll write down the name of a cream you can get for them.” She opened her black bag and took out a pad and pen and began to write.

“How’d I get burned?”

“I don’t know,” she told him. She tore off the paper and handed it to him. “You’d have to ask your friend.”

“What friend?” he asked, puzzled. He folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket.

“Tony Banks,” she replied. “That guy everyone’s trying to find.”

“What? He’s back?” 

Phil tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness made him think better of it.

“Sure is,” Martha confirmed. She glanced around for a moment, and then leaned in close. 

“Listen,” she whispered. “You know him well, right?”

“Yeahhh…” he agreed warily, not sure where this was going.

“So you knew all along? You knew that he’s a Time – ”

“Oh Phil, you’re awake!”

Phil and Martha looked up to see Tony standing in the doorway. The Doctor was behind him, his head down, looking troubled. 

Martha came to her feet.

“And you’re back!” Phil exclaimed, this time managing to make it upright with a little help from Martha. “We’ve got ‘alf the bleedin’ country looking for you! Where the hell have you been?”

“That’s a long story,” Tony told him amiably, coming to sit beside him on the sofa. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Now the room is only swimming a _little_ bit!”

“Good.” Tony patted his hand.

Phil gave him a surprised look. “Your hand is cold!”

“Is it?” Tony asked absently. He looked up at the Doctor. “So you’ll be leaving now?” It wasn’t really a question, more like a very broad hint.

“Yes, Tony, we’ll be leaving,” the Doctor agreed with a sigh. “Come on, Martha,” he urged, heading for the police box.

The young woman bent and picked up her black bag. She smiled down at Phil.

“It was nice meeting you, Mister Collins,” she told him, offering her hand.

“Same here,” Phil agreed, shaking her hand. “I think you’re going to make a wonderful doctor.”

She smiled delightedly. 

“Why thank you, that’s so sweet. Oh, almost forgot – your glasses… or rather, what’s left of them!” She handed him the shattered remains, and then turned her attention to Tony. “Mister Banks,” she said gravely, inclining her head slightly.

“Miss Jones.”

The Doctor unlocked the police box’s door and held it open for Martha.

“Wait, Doctor – where are you going?” Phil suddenly called.

“He’s going off somewhere to stick his nose in where it doesn’t belong!” Tony answered before he could stop himself.

The Doctor slowly turned and regarded him intently for a few seconds.

“Soooo… ah… how’s that world tour shaping up, Gentlemen?” he asked innocently. “You’ve sold out most places, haven’t you? Why, I bet there’s not a person _on this planet_ who doesn’t know who Genesis are, is there?”

Tony glared murderously at him.

Phil’s thoughtful gaze went from Tony to the Doctor and back again. “Wait, what’s all this about?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Tony grated out. “Just forget it.”

“Bye, guys!” Martha said cheerfully, waving.

“Hope he doesn’t get you killed,” Tony told her. “He’s good for dragging innocent humans into trouble, you know.”

This time the Doctor didn’t say a word. He merely gestured at Phil and _a-hemmed_ loudly, his eyebrows going up meaningfully.

The look on Tony’s face was absolutely priceless.

Martha couldn’t help it; she had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

As she followed the Doctor into the TARDIS, she heard Phil’s voice: “Tony, would you _please_ explain what the bloody hell is going on around here?”

The Doctor had already gone inside, but Martha turned back to watch.

“Later, Phil,” Tony sighed. 

“But – ”

“Come on,” Tony said briskly, rising to his feet. “Let’s go find Mike and tell him I’m back.”

“But Tony, I want to know – ”

"I suppose we’ll have to have a press conference,” Tony continued, as though his friend hadn’t even spoken. “Get them to call off the hounds.”

Martha made a decision. “Mister Collins, would you like to come inside?”

“Inside?” he wondered, rising. “Inside where?”

“Miss Jones – ” Tony began in a warning tone.

“Inside the TARDIS,” she replied, ignoring Tony. 

“TARDIS?”

“Phil, come _on_!” Tony said, putting a hand around the smaller man’s arm and preparing to drag him away.

“TARDIS – stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space,” Martha explained. She smiled, and stepped aside, gesturing inside the police box. “There’s plenty of room.”

“’ang on, Tony,” Phil murmured, pulling away from his friend’s grasp. “Let’s not be too hasty.”

“Phil, there’s nothing to see in there! It’s just a police box, all right?”

“Want to bet?” Martha countered.

“Yeah, let’s see,” Phil said, striding determinedly forward. “Coming?” he called over his shoulder.

Tony looked torn.

“There’s _plenty_ of room, you know,” Martha assured him ironically.

Tony made an annoyed little sound, but made no move to follow his friend inside.

“Bloody hell.”

The Doctor looked up from the control console at the sound of Phil’s voice.

“It’s bigger on the inside – ”

“ – than on the outside,” Martha finished with a grin. “It’s a space ship. It travels through time and space. Now the Doctor, he’s a Time Lord,” she explained. “He’s from another planet, and he’s got two hearts.”

“Two hearts?” Phil repeated dubiously.

“It’s true. I’ve heard them through my stethoscope.”

“Oh, Martha… did you bring Phil in here?” the Doctor asked in a mock exasperated tone.

“Yeah, you caught me,” she agreed, laughing.

“Well, you can’t keep him,” he told her seriously. “You’re too young to have a pet drummer.”

“Oh, but Doctor, I promise I’ll take care of him,” she said, her eyes wide and innocent. “I’ll feed him and water him and walk him and get him all his shots – ”

“Get him neutered while you’re at it,” a new voice said.

The Doctor turned to see Tony leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, one foot resting on top of the other.

“Well, you’re certainly not keeping _that_ one,” he told Martha, gesturing at Tony. “And that’s my final word on the subject.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Tony said dryly. “I’ve no wish to join your menagerie.”

“No, you’ve got your own little menagerie, haven’t you?” the Doctor agreed snidely. “I believe it’s called ‘Genesis’.”

“Now don’t you two start up again,” Martha warned. “I’ve had enough for one day!”

Phil looked up at Tony. 

“Can you believe all this?” he asked, making a sweeping gesture. “This is a _spaceship_! We’re in a _spaceship_! It’s bigger on the inside than on the outside!” He peered at his friend. “You sure seem to be taking this stuff in stride! Aren’t you the least bit boggled by any of this?”

Tony sighed. 

“Honestly, Phil, you’ve seen _one_ spaceship that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, you’ve seen them all.”

Martha and the Doctor exchanged looks, trying not to laugh.

“And he’s an _alien_!” Phil continued, gesturing at the Doctor. “He’s an _alien_ from _another planet_!”

“Yes, that is usually how that works,” Tony told him patiently.

The Doctor grinned at Martha. _Watch this,_ the look seemed to say. He walked over to the ranting drummer and took his hand.

“He’s got two hearts – ” Phil’s voice broke off and he stared down at the hand clasped around his, and then back up at the Doctor’s face in astonishment.

“Your hand is cold,” he finally managed, very faintly. 

The Doctor released his hand and smiled. 

“My body temperature’s a bit lower than yours. It’s part of that whole ‘alien’ thing, you know.”

Phil gazed around for a moment, taking in the walls with their backlit roundels and the central column with its control console. 

Then his eyes found Tony, who still stood in the doorway. 

“You know, I had a dream about a place like this,” the drummer said. “At least I _think_ it was a dream.” 

Unexpectedly, the Doctor came to the rescue. “Oh, people dream all kinds of crazy things. I shouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me,” Martha sang softly under her breath, but just loud enough to be heard. “Is there something that I should know?”

There was a very long silence.

“All right, Phil,” Tony said, straightening up and putting his hands in his pockets. “Seen enough alien wonders for one day?” he asked ironically.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed quietly. “I think I have.” He smiled, looking more like himself again. “Well. Goodbye, Miss Jones… and Doctor. Always a pleasure.”

“Same,” he agreed with a smile.

“Come on, Tony, let’s go rescue Mike from the telephones!”

“What telephones?” Tony asked as they left together.

The Doctor grinned at Martha. “You’re terrible!” he said with open approval.

“Who, me?” she asked innocently.

They laughed together as he set the coordinates for their next adventure.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Phil, I am _not_ going to London to chase after Beatles, real or imaginary,” Tony told him firmly.
> 
> “But they _shouldn’t_ be there! You said so yourself.”
> 
> “It isn’t _my problem_ ,” Tony said through gritted teeth.
> 
> “Can anyone join in this conversation, or do you need a note from a psychiatrist?” Mike wondered.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the calls I took,” Mike said as he followed Phil and Tony out of the police station. “Right before you came, I spoke to a lady who was calling to report that the Beatles were on the roof at Abbey Road!”

Phil stopped walking and turned to face him. “Seriously?”

“I told her to get a video camera and go out and film it. Honestly, Phil, you never heard such craziness.”

Phil was watching Tony carefully. 

“The Beatles couldn’t _really_ be on the roof at Abbey Road… could they?”

“What are you asking _him_ for?” Mike asked, puzzled. “It’s a ridiculous question anyway.”

“ _Could_ they?” Phil pressed, ignoring Mike.

Tony took a deep breath. 

“I suppose they _could_ be,” he finally allowed.

“But they _shouldn’t_ be, right?”

“Phil, what in the world are you going on about?” Mike interjected.

“They _shouldn’t_ be… _right_?”

Tony sighed. 

“No, Phil. The Beatles absolutely should not be on the roof at Abbey Road.”

“Well, thank God we’ve got _that_ cleared up,” Mike said, rolling his eyes.

Tony began walking again, and Phil hurried to catch up with him. 

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Phil, what in the world has gotten into you?” Mike asked as he followed his friends.

“Well?” Phil asked, still ignoring Mike.

“Phil, I am _not_ going to London to chase after Beatles, real or imaginary,” Tony told him firmly.

“But they _shouldn’t_ be there! You said so yourself.”

“It isn’t _my problem_ ,” Tony said through gritted teeth.

“Can anyone join in this conversation, or do you need a note from a psychiatrist?” Mike wondered.

“You know… they _really_ shouldn’t be there,” Phil said sincerely, meeting Tony’s eye.

Tony’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “You’re right. They _really_ shouldn’t be there,” he finally agreed. “Come on, let’s go get my orange box.”

Phil broke into a huge grin. “Yesss!”

“What orange box?” Mike asked, hurrying after the other two. “Phil? Tony? What the _hell_ is going on around here??”

FINIS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit about the Beatles being on the roof at Abbey Road comes from the _Torchwood_ episode "End of Days".

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on [A Teaspoon And An Open Mind: A _Doctor Who_ Fanfiction Archive](http://www.whofic.com) back in 2007. I've slightly updated it for AO3 - lucky you! ;)


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